by Dan Edmund
Chapter 30 - Into The Heart Of The Wilderness
Next day we packed our tents and warm clothings we needed for the mountains. To get there, we followed the same track we had used yesterday to gather the berries. Upon reaching the top of the cliff, I was again reminded of the encounter I had with the grizzly, and more significantly, the Apostle John. After a brief look at the river below us, we continued along and up the trail that led to a wooded plateau, which virtually teemed with wildlife of every kind. Never in the one area had I ever heard the sounds of so many birds: nightingales, canaries, the laughing of kookaburras, the chirping of sparrows, the shrieking of crows, and the tap-tapping of woodpeckers. There were other types of sounds and sights, of mammalian life, some distant, some near, from chimpanzees to grizzly bears, all incongruously intertwined in a land that knew no borders.
By midday we passed the plateau and were again venturing upwards until by dusk we neared the foot of Mount Eleos itself. There we camped for the night. The weather by now had become considerably cooler than anything we had ever experienced in Paradise. However, we were well prepared. Amongst our supplies, we had clothing made from special material found only in Paradise, material that was relatively light, yet exceptionally effective against the cold. That, plus the fact that our bodies were now much more resistant against the cold, meant that we could easily cope with any adverse weather conditions we met. Also, our tents were comfortable and warm, being likewise constructed from material far superior to anything we had known in the old world.
That night we all sat around a campfire where George and my father were cooking some fish fruits on a skewer. After dinner, we lingered around the fire, talking, laughing, and later even singing, until finally, one by one, everybody went into the tents, and into their respective sleeping bags. Finally, I was the last one left. By then the campfire was dying, and thus I instinctively huddled next to the glowing embers.
Far off in the distance, I heard a lone cry of a wolf. An eerie feeling swept over me as I realized that the day of reckoning would soon be upon me, the day I was to meet up with the person who had murdered me. I instinctively turned to prayer, and once more I was calm. A final look into the glowing embers and off I went into one of the tents. There I snuggled into a sleeping bag next to my parents. The wolf howled once more but I felt as comfortable and secure as if wrapped in cotton wool. I gave a final yawn and fell soundly asleep.
At dawn the next day, we continued our trek, now going upwards on the slopes of Eleos, the weather getting ever colder by the hour, although so far this caused us little concern. By early afternoon, the first snowflakes fell, just as it had when I had made my feeble attempt up the 11,000 foot peak of Mount Hood, in the Cascade Range. Then it had stopped me, and I had eagerly returned to base. However, now I had all the agility and endurance of a mountain goat. As the day progressed into the late afternoon, we had passed the tree line and the mountain suddenly appeared desolate and forsaken. Snowflakes were now coming down in thick, heavy clumps, covering the surrounding scenery completely in a blanket of white. Every step we made came with a great sloshing sound as we sunk shin deep into the snow.
However, Dad and George loved every moment of it: the rugged wilderness, the jagged surrounding peaks, and the mesmerizing white all around. Carlos, on the other hand, looked far less enthusiastic, his normal bright countenance now replaced with one of stoical resignation. George's wife, Flo, likewise faced the task with similar determination. So did I until later that day, when all sense of adventure had deserted me. Although still managing well under the physical strain, as we all were, I nonetheless began to hate this trek up the mountain. The only thing that comforted me was the thought of reaching our miraculous cave home that George had seen in his vision. However, my poor mother found it even harder. She really was close to breaking point, and I think the only thing that kept her going were her incessant prayers, and my father's constant helping hand.
Still, as with all journeys, no matter how long or tedious, there comes the destination, and so we reached ours just before sundown. We were now on relatively level ground, not too far from the summit. And the view was truly awesome. On the one side was another mountain, almost as high and rugged as ours. The opposite side, only a few yards away from where we stood, was a cliff with a sheer drop of at least three hundred feet. As we stared over this grand, majestic panorama, all my fears and complaints were now forgotten. My spirit soared once more, and I was again filled with a sense of wonder over this incredible place, which I definitely now knew was not the Cascades my father and I had known. Thus we lingered, soaking in the incredible scenery until finally George directed us to our new home. From about a hundred feet away, he pointed straight towards the upper face of the mountain, where there was an opening barely large enough for us to get through. "Hey, look!" George yelled. "That's exactly what I saw in my vision. That's our new home!"
We all stared at him, dumbfounded, little realizing just how incredible this cave will turn out to be.